


Manage Me, I'm A Mess

by avidfangirllife



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, cookie baking, i don't know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:36:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidfangirllife/pseuds/avidfangirllife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a tumblr post, "which one of your otp tries to bake the cookies and which one steals the cookie dough"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manage Me, I'm A Mess

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first full fic EVER so please go easy on me. I know it is not the best thing I have ever written, but I decided to share it anyway. I just felt inspired so I had to get it out, and I don't need another thing sitting on my computer staring at me! (all mistakes are mine)  
> I hope you enjoy it <3 =)

     “Of course I can handle it, O.  It’s one cookie pie.  It’s Bellamy’s birthday, I have to do _something_ special.”  Clarke held the phone against her ear with her shoulder so she could toss her keys onto the table and kick the door closed behind her, carrying bags of groceries in with her other hand.

     “I know, Clarkey, it’s just…we both know what happened last time you tried to bake something.  This time Bell might not be home to come save you when your oven catches on fire.”

     “It was not on fire, it just started smoking a little.  And that wasn’t even my fault!  The Mets were in the middle of a 7 run inning I couldn’t just leave the couch!”  It was true.  The Mets didn’t do exciting things like that often, so she had to enjoy it while she could.

     “Whatever you say, Clarkey.  This time avoid exciting tv programs so you don’t miss the timer and burn Bellamy’s _special birthday cookie pie_ ,” Octavia said with a giggle.  Of course she had long since figured out Clarke had a huge crush on her older brother.  Luckily Octavia was a good enough friend that she had been silently supportive of this crush for the last 6 years.

     Clarke and Octavia met when they were 6 and 5, respectively.  It wasn’t until ten years later that Clarke developed her extremely inappropriate crush on her best friend’s 19 year old brother.  They grew up on the same street, so even though Clarke and O were a year apart in school, they spent most of their time together.  Whether it be riding bikes up and down the block in the spring and fall, trips to the beach in the summer, or sitting on the floor of Octavia’s living room in front of a fire watching movies in the winter, they were inseparable.  Of course Clarke was partial to the family beach trips because they involved Octavia’s hot older brother baring his sun-kissed abs and the way his black waves looked after swimming in the ocean.  At least then she could blame the dry mouth on the heat and not her _extremely inappropriate crush on her_ _best friend’s older brother_.  But then, she also really loved the winters, because Bellamy always made them hot chocolate and every once in a while he would sit on the couch and watch a movie with them.  If they happened to fall asleep during the movie, somehow they always ended up in Octavia’s bed, and Clarke’s parents always knew she spent the night there.  So, it made sense that Clarke developed this stupid crush, what with Bellamy not only being attractive, but also caring.  And since Octavia was Clarke’s best friend, it made sense that she figured it out right away.

     “Shut up, O,” Clarke grumbled.  “I’ll see you later.  7 right?”

     “Yeah, babe.  See you at 7!” Octavia added a loud kissy sound before hanging up the phone.  Clarke tossed her phone onto the couch and headed into the kitchen to start making Bellamy’s _special birthday cookie pie_.  (Oh great, now she was calling it that too.)

 

     Clarke laid out all the ingredients on the counter and stared at them.  _I know I’m forgetting something._   She starting measuring out the dry ingredients into one mixing bowl, assuming she would figure out the missing ingredient as she went along.

     In the midst of her intense focus on baking the perfect special birthday cookie pie for Bellamy, she didn’t hear her front door open and close.  It wasn’t until she heard a deep voice call out her name that she noticed she was no longer alone in her apartment.

_Shit_.  Clarke pushed back the hair that had fallen out of her braid just as Bellamy stepped into the kitchen.

     Since they moved into the same apartment building two years ago, they made a habit of just walking into one another’s places.  When Clarke ended up at the same college as Bellamy, they began spending more time together and had since become best friends.  These days, he knew her just as well as Octavia did.  She was lucky, though, that he apparently hadn’t picked up on her stupid crush.  Or maybe she wasn’t lucky.  She hadn’t really decided yet.

     “What the hell happened in here?” he asked, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he took in Clarke’s appearance;  she had flour all over her hands, streaked across her cheeks, in her hair, and in splotches all over her clothes.

     “I’m making your birthday cookie pie, _obviously_ ,” Clarke retorted before adding, “What are you even doing here?”

     He chuckled at her obvious frustration being caught attempting to bake, which he knew was not one of Clarke’s strong points.  Baking was not one of them, as was apparent by the layer of flour covering most of the countertops and part of the floor.  _So, she wasn’t good at_ slowly _mixing the flour into the stand mixer, big deal._

     “I’m here to offer you a ride to O’s.  We live in the same apartment building…didn’t think it made sense to take two cars.”  He looked around again before adding, “I’m glad I came.  Clearly you need help with all…” he finished his statement with a grand, sweeping hand gesture, drawing Clarke’s attention to the disaster that had become of her kitchen before he moved to take over the baking duties.

     Clarke just huffed and stepped to the side while Bellamy started gathering all the ingredients onto one part of the counter and moving the mixing bowls directly to the right of them (after dumping whatever concoction Clarke had created into the trash can, ignoring her protests).  He took stock of the ingredients Clarke had pulled out and his face twisted into concern.

     Clarke noticed his expression and quickly asked, “What is it Bellamy?”

     “Where are the eggs?”

     Clarke’s face dropped for a second. _Eggs! Of course.  How could she forget the eggs? Maybe O was right._  “I put them back in the fridge,” she responded quickly.

     “Whatever you say, Clarke.”  He chuckled again as he walked over to the fridge to retrieve the eggs.  “This egg carton is full.  You know you need eggs to make cookies, right?”

     “Of course I know that!  I just didn’t get a chance to put them in yet…” she mumbled to the floor, a red flush creeping up her cheeks.

     “It’s okay, Clarke.  Not everyone can bake incredible cookie pies like I can,” he grinned at her again.

_I’ll kiss that stupid grin right off your beautiful face._

_Get it together Griffin!_  “Always so modest.”

     He rolled his eyes at her and went to work.

     “You know, you shouldn’t bake your own birthday cookie pie, Bell.”

     “You know, you shouldn’t bake anything unsupervised, Clarke.”

     She stuck her tongue out at him, but she gave in.  He was right after all.

     “Okay fine, but I get to help!” she said.  “What can I do?”  She moved next to him, putting herself in position to be of use.

     “You…” he paused to turn her around so her back was to the counter, wrap his hands around her hips, and lift her up so she was seated atop it. “You can sit right here and not touch anything else,” he finished, punctuating his statement by dipping his finger into the flour and then poking her nose.

     She kicked her right leg out at him, only managing to graze his knee as he jumped back out of her reach.

 

    As Bellamy started baking, Clarke became transfixed by his every move.  She caught every muscle jump in his shoulders and biceps as he measured each ingredient and poured it into the correct bowl.  She saw every bone that stood out against the skin in his hands as he cracked the eggs into the bowl.  She watched the concentration on his face as he poured the dry ingredients slowly into her stand mixer, adjusting the speed to match the increasing thickness of the batter; his eyes were slightly narrowed and he was biting his bottom lip.  She found herself biting her lip as well, mimicking the expression she found on his face.  Her heart started beating erratically and she could feel it rising in her throat with each passing second.

     When he turned to get the pan from the cabinet above the fridge, she dipped her finger into the batter to taste it.  Clarke froze with her finger in her mouth when she looked up and saw Bellamy reaching for the pan.  The tan skin at his lower back, between his white t-shirt and the boxers peeking out from the top of his jeans, was exposed with the exertion of his stretch to reach the top shelf.  Clearly she didn’t factor in that he would have to reach for the pan when she decided to try to be sneaky.  When Bellamy turned back around, pan in hand, he caught her hurriedly pulling her finger out of her mouth.

     “Raw cookie dough isn’t good for you, Clarke,” Bellamy stated, sarcastically.

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bellamy.”  Clarke held his eye contact as she dipped her finger into the bowl again, fighting the smile trying to force itself out of her.  As she raised her hand back toward her mouth, she felt a strong hand grasp her wrist, redirecting it.

     When Bellamy’s lips closed around her finger, Clarke’s breath blew out. 

     “Any good?” Clarke managed in a strained voice.

     Bellamy took a step closer so he was standing directly between her legs.  “I don’t know, you tell me.”

     And then he was kissing her.

     Clarke froze for a second, unsure of whether or not this was a dream, but once she realized it was real, she responded feverishly.  Her hands tangled into his hair and she pulled his face even closer to hers.  She slid to the edge of the counter and wrapped her legs around his hips, grinding against him.

     “ _Fuck, Clarke_ ,” he breathed into her mouth.

     She used that moment as an opportunity to lick into his mouth, sighing at the relief of _finally kissing Bellamy Blake_.

     She pulled back and looked at him, searching his eyes for an explanation.

     He read the curiosity on her face, knowing what she was asking without her having to say anything, and shrugged, “I just really wanted to kiss you.  I pretty much always want to kiss you, but you look so adorable covered in flour this time I couldn’t resist.  Besides, it’s my birthday.”

     “What do you mean you pretty much always want to kiss me?”  Clarke was trying not to get too excited too quickly.  This could still turn bad.

      Bellamy lifted a hand to tuck a loose hair behind her ear.  “I mean exactly that.”

      “But…I don’t understand…how come you never said anything?”

     “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t think you felt the same way.”  He shrugged again, looking down.

     “You’re such an idiot, Bell.”  She lifted his chin until he held her gaze once again.  “I’ve been in love with you since I was 16.”

     “In love with me, huh?”  His face stretched into a shit-eating grin.

     “Shut up.”  She smacked him playfully on the arm.  He responded by kissing her again.

     After a minute, she pulled back again, thinking of the special birthday cookie pie.  “We should put the giant cookie in the oven.”

     “You should get cleaned up.  I may find you adorable covered in flour, but you probably don’t want to show up at O’s place looking like a bag of flour exploded all over you.”

     “Yeah yeah, Jerk.  You put the cookie pie in the oven, I’ll go take a shower.”  Clarke turned to head towards the bathroom when she got an idea.  “Hey, you know you could probably use a bit of cleaning up yourself.  My flour mess may have gotten in your hair and all over your shirt.”

     “Are you propositioning me, Clarke?”

     “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”  She turned to walk into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed it? <3


End file.
